Page 58 of The Shape of Silence

“Less than half a day south,” Donnchadh said. “Coming north with several hundred men, mayhap more. Wynn said they found him by the old crossing, and Thain broke camp within the hour.”

Morggán absorbed that with a slow nod. “He understood the size of the English force?”

“Aye,” Tormod said. “The messenger told him what ye saw from the hollow. I’ve just learned from our own scouts that the English are still moving north and east, but slower now. Too many wagons, too much weight, and the spring ground’s still soft.”

“If Thain keeps his pace, he’ll reach us before nightfall or near enough to it,” Donnchadh informed him.

“Providing our own units are returned today, we can break at first light with both forces joined,” Tormod suggested. “The English think they passed through these woods unseen, but we’ll join Thain’s men with ours and fall upon them before they gain firmer road.”

Morggán looked toward the doorway, already measuring distance, daylight, horses, men, the temper of the ground.

And in the periphery of his thoughts, but gaining space, was Avery, and that kiss. The very near memory of it distracted him—hesitant softness giving way to answering hunger, the small helpless sound she had made into his mouth, the way she had clung to him. Nothing about the kiss had been uncertain once she yielded to it. It had been startlingly right from the first moment her lips parted beneath his. His hands had been fantastically curious and yet somehow cautious, aching to go places they had never been.

Jesu! He wanted to do it again already, wanted more.

That truth sat breathtakingly enough upon him, but another followed close behind it, colder and far more consequential. Only yesterday he had told Avery plainly that he could not in good conscience leave her alone in this forest any longer, though she had refused him just as plainly in return. At the time, he had believed the matter one purely of safety and obligation. No decent man, knowing what dangers moved through these lands and what had already nearly befallen her here, could willingly ride away and leave her defenseless among the woods.

But that had been before the kiss.

Now, confronted again by hard realities waiting beyond the trees, he understood with growing unease that his resistance to leaving her behind no longer rested solely upon duty or protection.

The understanding came to him with unpleasant clarity. Whatever Avery wished, whatever argument she might still make for remaining here alone inside the forest, he already knew he would not ride away easily and leave her to this life again. The very thought produced a hard resistance inside him, something instinctive and immediate that clenched almost angrily in his chest.

It no longer seemed merely unwise to leave her here. It seemed impossible.

Morggán looked toward her then, to find her gaze upon him again. The flush had not entirely faded from her face.

No, there was no way he could leave her now.

And judging by the look Tormod cast him from the corner of his eye, Morggán had the impression that his captain had already begun to suspect it too.

Chapter Fifteen

By the time dusk began thickening properly between the trees, Avery had left the house only once. She’d fetched water earlier while enough daylight still filtered beneath the forest canopy to see clearly, but even that brief walk to the stream had left her tense beneath what felt like longer glances from the men nearby and the uncomfortable suspicion that at least some of them were whispering about her, speaking about what had happened with Kerr.

Charlie, to her increasing annoyance, was deeply dissatisfied with remaining shut inside the house.

The hound had spent much of the evening pacing between the hearth and the closed door, ears twitching and head cocking constantly toward the sounds outside. Often enough he had crossed to the entrance and stood there expectantly, tail swaying low behind him as though he fully anticipated being permitted out amongst the soldiers. The traitor had evidently decided he liked having Morggán’s men nearby. Avery suspected more than one of them had fed him scraps throughout the day, judging by Charlie’s growing confidence toward strangers and the complete absence of alarm in him now. Earlier, she’d heard someone laughing outside and Charlie had barked enthusiastically in answer.

“Sorry, Charlie, but we’re in for the night,” she muttered at him as he returned once more to stare hopefully toward the door.

Charlie glanced at her briefly before resuming his vigil.

Avery sat at the short table, repairing a tear along the sleeve of one of her older shirts, something she’d been meaning to do for a week now, but that had somehow gotten lost in the shuffle of the past week’s upheaval. First she’d found the dead horse and then a half-dead Morggán upon her forest floor, then the English had moved with terrifying numbers within shouting distance of her house, then Morggán’s army had arrived, and today the ugly business with that guy, Kerr—she supposed she should grant herself some grace for things left undone.

Oh, and beyond all that chaos, Morggán had kissed her!

Kissed her. Her!—Avery Mercer.

The thought still struck her with fresh disbelief each time it returned. What was that thing her mother used to say whenever something improbable happened? Wonders never cease.

Earlier, after that startling event, and after Tormod and Donnchadh had finally taken their leave, Morggán had lingered near the doorway long enough to make a dangerous sort of hope unfurl inside her. For several breathless seconds she had genuinely thought he might cross the space between them and kiss her again.

Instead, he had studied her with such fierce concentration that warmth rose all over again into her face beneath the weight of it. “Avery,” he had said at last, almost gruffly, “ye neednae fear any man crossing this threshold again. And ken that Kerr will answer for what he did.”

Then he had given a short nod and stepped outside.

For quite some time afterward she remained thoroughly convinced the severity of that scrutiny had come from the effort of not kissing her again. What else was she supposed to think when so much of his attention had remained fixed upon her mouth?